


Young Leaves

by acchikocchi



Category: Tennis no Oujisama | Prince of Tennis
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-25
Updated: 2015-10-25
Packaged: 2018-04-27 20:33:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5063101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/acchikocchi/pseuds/acchikocchi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>When he got to the lab Mishima-sensei and Shimura-sensei shared, Renji was already there, moving around his long, stainless steel worktable on Shimura's side of the lab.</em>
</p><p>Birthdays in grad school.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Young Leaves

**Author's Note:**

  * For [scheherazade](https://archiveofourown.org/users/scheherazade/gifts).



> This was supposed to be for the Data Pair birthday back in June; it ended up being _for_ [June](http://archiveofourown.org/users/scheherazade), real life Renjicat. Happy birthday, kyouju. :) ♥
> 
> Title after the [Spitz song](http://acchikocchi.livejournal.com/101876.html).

Sadaharu woke to the sound of water washing down the gutter outside his window. The glass was streaked with raindrops; the view beyond was a smear of green dotted with bright spikes of color – hydrangeas at the temple next door. He sat up and fumbled for his glasses.

Humidity curled the short hair at the nape of his neck. The floor fan hissed softly as he checked his messages.

From Kikumaru, at two in the morning: 

_happy bday!!! \^o^/ \^o^/ \^o^/_

And from Kaidou, at six: 

_Senpai: Happy birthday. May you have a good year._

Sadaharu pushed his glasses up his nose. He typed his replies carefully. _Thank you for your kind thoughts. See you next week_

Not many people had his personal number, which was how he preferred it. Better to have the data than to be the data. He wasn't sure how many of his former teammates had absorbed this lesson, or kept track of him as they shed phone numbers like willow leaves.

Sadaharu turned off the fan and got up.

*

His mobile chimed once more as he got ready to leave, one of his labmates from undergraduate. _Drink lots of coffee. Have a good day. Let's get a drink soon._

And surprisingly, and almost touchingly, if Sadaharu were the sort of person to be touched and the sender the sort of person to be anything so artless as touching, from Fuji: _Have a very happy birthday. Give my regards to the experiments._

By the time Sadaharu stepped out of the apartment block and turned right to go past the sports shop next door, the rain had lifted. The clouds still hung low and heavy, the color of pale pewter. Sadaharu inhaled and the scent of fresh green things sprung up to his nose.

He carried a clear plastic umbrella, the type sold for 500 yen at convenience stores. Droplets collected at its peak and skittered down the sides. Sadaharu could look up as he walked, and observe the tender, thin-veined leaves overheard, laden with chloroplasts, bright and pale.

His daily walk to the lab went past chain bookstores, hole in the wall eateries crammed with undergrads until the early hours of the morning, shops selling secondhand laptops and secondhand futons and secondhand hot plates. Sadaharu stopped to look in the window of the stationery shop; he always had, since he was a child.

He caught sight of his reflection in the window. The same thick glasses, the same coarse hair, the same sober face. He could almost see his younger self reflected back at waist height. He moved on.

*

When he got to the lab Mishima-sensei and Shimura-sensei shared, Renji was already there, moving around his long, stainless steel worktable on Shimura's side of the lab.

"Good morning," Sadaharu said.

Renji raised his head, looked at him, and nodded. "Good morning."

There was nothing else to say, so Sadaharu went to his workspace.

He couldn't help straining to listen as the rest of Shimura's lab – Iijima and Nishimoto and Okichi – trickled in. He didn't hear anything other than commonplace greetings, and then a question about a meeting last night, the chemistry society, dissolving into a low murmur of titration and hydroglycerines. Sadaharu turned his attention back to his own work.

Mishima-sensei arrive at half past nine, as usual. An absent nod greeted Tojo and Kanizaki, and Sadaharu was prepared for the same. Mishima-sensei said, "Ah, yes. Inui-kun."

Sadaharu blinked once, then again. "Yes?"

"I'd like to talk to you for a moment. At my desk." Mishima waved a hand at Sadaharu's laptop. "When you reach a suitable point."

Tojo's eyes were glued to his laptop; he didn't care about anything that wasn't his own data. Kanzaki gave him a sidelong glance, but she was too polite, or maybe too timid, to say anything. Sadaharu pretended he didn't see.

He tidied up his loose ends, made a note so he could pick up his thought process precisely where he left off, and crossed the room.

Their professors each had desk on the far side of the lab, near the window. As Sadaharu passed Shimura's territory he looked neither left nor right. 

Renji had excellent hearing. Mishima was already deep into a journal. Sadaharu adjusted his glasses, waited for precisely thirty seconds, and then when no recognition was forthcoming, said, "Yes? Sir."

Mishima could be perceptive, appearances aside. He glanced up, and up, at Sadaharu's face, and waved a hand. "No, no," he said. "It's quite good news, I would say."

Sadaharu straightened his shoulders. The back of his neck itched. "Is it?"

"You know Domoto-kun's off to Germany for the year."

"I heard about the award," Sadaharu said, because it was clearly expected. 

Mishima harrumphed – that was the only word for it. "Yes, yes, it's very nice for him. It's a bit troublesome for us, though. He'll have to leave very suddenly – as soon as the term ends."

"That's a pity." Sadaharu still couldn't see what it had to do with him. Domoto-sensei taught introductory chemistry to undergrads when he wasn't studying organic conductors, the subject of his advanced course for senior majors.

Mishima said, "I've recommended you to take over his undergraduate class."

Sadaharu was so surprised that he almost said, _But I'm not a professor._

"Lecturer," Mishima said, as if reading his thoughts. "We'll handle his advanced courses ourselves, but there's no reason a promising scholar like you can't take over the beginners. And afterwards, we expect – well, you understand, I hope." His regard was purposeful. "Your work is of a very high standard, and we'd like to keep you at the university."

Sadaharu heard what he was saying. Mishima wasn't talking about one class, he was talking about what would happen after Sadaharu finished his dissertation. He was talking about post-doctoral positions, faculty appointments. 

"You're on track to finish your dissertation next spring, aren't you?" Sadaharu nodded. "This will be a good experience for you. If it works out, well, who knows. Of course it's only a temporary appointment, but..." Mishima's words were vague, but he didn't need to be explicit. Sadaharu knew what could follow. The ability to continue his research, a salaried position, and then in a few years the first steps toward tenure.

Mishima looked expectant, and Sadaharu realized he hadn't said anything. He cleared his threat. "Yes. Please. Thank you. That is–" He bowed low. "It's a great honor."

As Mishima smiled, Sadaharu realized how rarely he saw his advisor look approving. "Good! We'll sort out the details as soon as possible, then." Mishima patted him on the shoulder. "Well done, Inui-kun. We have high expectations for you."

"I'll work hard to meet them." Sadaharu bowed from the waist once more, and swiveled to go.

As he passed the work table, Renji glanced up. Sadaharu paused, and looked down. Their eyes met.

Renji gave him a small, correct nod. "Congratulations."

Sadaharu pushed his glasses up his nose. "Thank you."

*

Kanizaki was touchingly pleased for him. If anyone were to feel threatened by competition for funding, it wouldn't be Kanzaki, who was the best researcher in her subfield as far as Kyoto. She clapped her hands and exclaimed, "We should all go out to eat together to celebrate!"

Sadaharu looked at Tojo, who looked like he'd rather gut himself with a pipette. Kanzaki followed his line of sight, then flushed, a blotchy, embarrassed color.

"Thank you for the kind invitation," Sadaharu said. "I have a previous engagement, though. Maybe later this week."

"Of course, Inui-kun," Kanzaki said, recovering her smile. "It really is wonderful for you."

Tojo's scowl was dark. That, at least, was something Sadaharu was used to, and completely irrelevant. Tojo wouldn't be staying past his fellowship, and he might manage to contribute one or two pertinent data points before he left; if he did, Sadaharu would use them.

He still wasn't expecting Tojo to sneer, "Maybe you two can _collaborate._ "

Sadaharu blinked. " _Tojo-kun_ ," Kanzaki began, puffing up like a blowfish, but she were interrupted by a clatter.

"Sorry, sorry – all right there, Yanagi?" Okichi said, right behind Sadaharu's ear. "No, it's my fault. What's all this now?"

*

Kanzaki did succeed in treating him to lunch, at least – from the cafeteria in the humanities building, which perhaps wasn't worth the treat, but it was impossible not to return her cheery smile. 

Renji never went out for lunch; he inevitably had a simple bento in a plain box that he ate, book in hand, on one of the benches in the common hall, or outside in good weather.

Sadaharu went out sometimes, by himself. Otherwise he ate his storebought bento on a bench across from Renji, close enough for a polite exchange of work inquiries but too far for conversation. He assumed Renji preferred it that way.

The lab was still half empty when Sadaharu returned with Kanzaki. They returned to their work in comfortable accord.

Minutes later, Tojo stormed in and slammed his bag on the worktable so hard something crunched. His hands were shaking. The back of his neck was red, or purple, or somewhere in between. Sadaharu exchanged a glance with Kanzaki. Tojo's jaw was locked; his face was twisted, distorted, etched with lines of humiliated fury.

Sadaharu knew that expression. He could almost place it.

"Tojo-kun…?" Kanzaki ventured.

Tojo took a deep, gulping breath. "Some people think they're," he said, " _some people_ —"

On the other side of the lab, Iijima and Nishimoto were studiously focusing on their work. "Some people?" Sadaharu prompted.

Tojo shot him a look that almost made Sadaharu blink at its viciousness. He didn't speak, though. He exhaled through his nose, bullish, and collected himself. "It's nothing," he said. His teeth were clenched. "Please don't trouble yourself."

A movement out of the corner of his eye caught Sadaharu's attention. As Renji slipped into the room and took his place on the other side of the lab, Sadaharu remembered where he'd seen Tojo's expression before.

Tojo followed his look. The back of his neck flushed darker and he yanked his laptop open, knuckles white.

Renji's upright shoulders were perfectly even, his spine straight. A cat satisfied with the kill.

*

The light faded, and faded.

One by one they cleaned their work surfaces and closed their notebooks, leaving programs running or compiling, heading off in search of food or drink or more likely home to spend another several hours with a laptop. "Next week, Inui-kun," Mishima-sensei said as his lab group bowed him out of the room. It made Tojo stop what he was doing and shut the lid of his laptop with a huff, shoving papers in his backpack with a jerky hand and stomping out of the room without a word. 

Kanzaki was next to leave, then another of Shimura's lab, until as usual, it was just Sadaharu and Renji.

Sadaharu went to get a drink from the vending machine down the hall. 

The vehicle was irrelevant; the object was the nutrients conveyed to one's body. That was an old lesson. B vitamins, caffeine, taurine, sugars. Walking back along the corridor Sadaharu thought about what to say. _It's rather late. I was about to go out for a meal. Would you like to come? By the way –_

The lab was empty.

Sadaharu stood in the doorway for a moment. One of the long fluorescents overhead flickered, reflecting off the spotless steel.

It was time to go home. It wasn't good to use lab time to work on private projects. He had tests to run, and he'd promised Kaidou a look at his training diet. Sadaharu was so busy reminding himself of all the things he ought to do that at first he didn't notice what was resting next to his laptop.

The package was flat and rectangular, wrapped in plain paper. The corners were neatly taped. Sadaharu slid a thumb under the tight crease and worked the flap free. The paper fell away.

One hundred pages, A5, narrow-lined. Green cover.

Sadaharu held it in his hands for a moment. When he rested the spine in one hand and, slowly, thumbed the edge of the pages, a square of paper fluttered free. 

Sadaharu picked it up.

 _Happy birthday, professor_ , it read.

*


End file.
